


Denial

by scuro (kenkaosky)



Series: Photographs [1]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25478491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenkaosky/pseuds/scuro
Summary: Duo's in denial.Somewhat melodramatic ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Series: Photographs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1845664
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Denial

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LiveJournal; 4.02.07

"You're my best friend," he says. Yeah, right.

"I trust you more than anyone," he tells me. Mhm. Sure.

I glare at the fireplace in front of me, the flames flickering angrily. Yeah, best friends. And that's exactly why he told me about her, isn't it? The pictures on the mantle piece sit innocently, glowing slightly in the firelight. I hate that mantle piece, I decide, because perched on it, right in front of me, is the picture that calls his bluff. 

There he is, looking at her out of surprised eyes, the tie he had spent so much time adjusting this morning askew and hanging out of his collared shirt pocket. I'd been giving him grief about it all day, telling him we were only going out with friends and he didn't have to dress up, but he'd only stuck his tongue out at me and told me not everyone was uncouth as I was. There he is, his arm twined oh so comfortably through hers, their shadows merged on the pavement. I remember her voice echoing cheerfully throughout the street, thanking him profusely for asking her to come along when I distinctly recall her inviting herself.

And no, I wasn't jealous of her or anything. I was just mad that my "best friend" hadn't deigned me important enough to tell about his new girlfriend.

Trowa and Quatre stand a small distance away, caught up in their own little world, like always. Quatre is grinning brightly and animatedly telling Trowa about his newest nephew being born the night before. Like any good best friend and lover, Trowa has his full attention focused on the blonde's enthusiastic anecdote. The photographer had just missed the end of Quatre's story, when the two had interlaced their hands and began to continue their walk down the street, goofy, lovesick smiles on their faces. I can't decide whether I'm glad or not.

And no, the pang in my chest when I saw the two of them together was not envy or anything. It's probably heartburn or something.

Wufei stands at the rear, glaring Heavenwards, and probably cursing his ancestors for Sally's Medical Conference in New York. I am assuming he was just trying to remember if he had enough quarters to go find a pay phone and call the "stupid onna", as I recall him talking to her briefly at a gas station only a few minutes later. Her voice had echoed out of the earpiece angrily, asking Wufei what on earth he thought he was doing, interupting her important conference! But a few hushed whispers from our end of the line had her settled, and when Wufei hung up he looked much less likely to murder the first person who looked at him wrong.

And no, I didn't care at all that all of my friends were halves of a couple while I was left on my own. After all, I had a cat to go home to every day, didn't I?

Last, I look at myself. Smiling energetically, I stand only a few feet from Heero and Relena, calling something to him. I'm sure only a teasing remark about how he finally got his princess. I mean, Relena's a nice girl. The street photographer had missed Heero's glare in my direction, snapping the shot and calling us over mere seconds before. After the photographer had printed out our photograph, Quatre had looked at me sadly. He slung an arm around my shoulder, and murmured something about a false smile. I didn't have a clue what he was talking about. Heero took a copy of the picture, a smile on his face. When we got home this afternoon, he put it in the center of the mantle piece.

And of course I was happy for him. Who else, if not my best friend, deserved the affection of the princess of the world?

My eyes dance over the other pictures on the mantle, finally finding my favorite hidden behind this new picture. It doesn't hurt at all when I have to get up and adjust them, I swear. The cherished photograph is from a few weeks earlier, at Relena's 17th Birthday Party. She's one of the only one's out of our group of friends who even knows her birthday, so we always make sure to make a big deal celebrating. In the picture I'm grinning widely, surprising her and blowing out the candles. She has this wonderfully shocked expression on her face that makes me laugh, but what I always notice about this picture is the expression _Heero_ is wearing. He's not looking at her, for once, he's looking at me like- like I'm-

No, the reason it's my favorite picture has absolutely nothing to do with the way he's looking at me. It's the angle I like. And the colors.

...Damn. I told Heero we should have cleaned the living room better. I'll have to dust it now, stupid allergies.

I turn away from my favorite picture and look at another one I hold almost as dear, one of just Heero and I. It was after a game of one on one that I definitely beat him at, but he still won't admit to losing. Sweat drips off our skin, we had been playing for hours, and his hair is messier than usual and standing on end. I've got an arm slung over his shoulder, breathing heavily and trying to get my balance. Relena gave this picture a slightly disgusted look last time she came over, telling us that we both looked a mess. "Sweaty and gross", I believe was her wording. Heero had given her an odd look, I recall, laying a gentle hand on the picture and telling her it was one of his favorites.

And no, that warm feeling in my heart had absolutely nothing to do with his actions. It was the Indian we had just had for dinner.

My gaze is drawn back to his face, a smile hiding there that only I can see. 'In denial?' his perfect and forever preserved blue eyes ask me, and I finally let the tears fall.

One hundred fucking percent. 


End file.
